crescentview | ( summer catch-all! )

[He remains by the dresser, shifting his weight from foot to foot without picking either of them up off the floor, crossing one arm over his midsection to grab his opposite elbow. Eye contact has never been something he's struggled to maintain, but he supposes any prior instance he's been lying through his teeth or engaging someone specifically for his own benefit, and this is something else entirely.]

[Transactional, he reminds himself, and he walks a touch mechanically to the bed, perching to sit at the foot of it angled so he isn't looking directly at her, but isn't completely facing away, either. He folds one leg up onto the mattress and holds onto his ankle with both hands.]

In stark contrast this is one of the more uncomfortable things I've experienced here. [He raises a hand to stop her from protesting or misunderstanding.] ...I've actually never had a proper "sleepover" before, and I've always been a relatively solitary person. [Lonely, he means, even if he'll never fucking say it.]

Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable.

( she sits up, combing through her hair with her fingers. just as a measure to detangle it from where she was laying. )

If it's any consolation, this isn't normally how a sleepover goes down. You don't have to share a bed with another person, and you usually do activities together. Like ... tell stories, do crafts, brush each other's hair, bake cupcakes, play board games ... y'know. That sort of stuff. Sharing the bed is the only bingo task we have to do tonight, so I suppose the rest of it is free-game.

( if only she came more prepared! she's normally had sleepovers with girls before. what do boys do when they have sleepovers?? truly, it's a mystery. )

If it helps you feel any better, maybe we could do something? I kinda figured we'd talk until we fell asleep, but if there's anything I can do to improve the experience for you, I'll do it in a heartbeat. ( she cares, u lil gremlin man. )

[She speaks so freely. It makes his stomach hurt a little, actually. She makes so many suggestions-- or, he thinks they're suggestions? He doesn't want to tell stories, he doesn't know any crafts, he might die if she brushes his hair, he would absolutely burn his house down if they tried to bake. He does have Twister? But from his experience with Lucia he's not entirely sure he ever wants to play it again. He makes a wordless little sound, nodding, and rolls his shoulders, putting his hands back on his ankle.]

You aren't, specifically. I'm just uncomfortable in these circumstances, and making use of the bingo cards is a lucrative distraction from that constant.

[He doesn't really think there's anything at a sleepover that could improve his experience. Broadly speaking, he's not sure there's anything that could improve his experience at all, outside of choking his father within inches of his life and then possibly throwing himself off the nearest cliff. It was complicated.]

[He realizes he's being a bit of a killjoy, regardless, and scoots carefully up to sit closer to her, the motion very stiff. He folds his limbs neatly in on themselves, his knees drawn toward his chest and his arms looped around them. It makes him oddly small for as tall as he is.] ...forgive me, I'm really quite awful with people.

... Hey.

( she's sitting up now, resting her back against the wall, smiling at him. where has she seen this sort of behaviour before? in the most fond way possible, he reminds her of Collei. she has no idea what his past is like, but it's not the first time she's tried to get through to someone so cold and closed off.

just like the warmth of her Pyro vision, Amber is a flame of compassion and love. no matter the individual, no matter the history, she will never give up on them. )

Nobody's perfect at everything. Which is corny, I know, but ... it's true. ( she covers her mouth as she giggles. ) For example, I can't cook! It's quite embarrassing how when I look back and realise that my friends would never ask for seconds, and never have a nice word to say about the dishes I made for them ... ( sigh! ) I guess that's one thing I want to work on while I'm here. Get good at cooking! Plus there's a bunch of other stuff I can't do and so many things I don't know.

And, hey. If you ask me, it's never too late to try new things. Even something small like spending time with others and adjusting to being around them. If you want a little help with that, you can rely on me any time you want a friend. ( the warmth in her voice and her eyes is undeniable - she truly means every word she says. )

[He doesn't look up when she heys at him, the tone of her voice more than enough to pull his limbs taut. She's too genuine to be pitying him, but perhaps it was just genuine pity and not the forced sort of pity like how one pities a rabid sewer rat in the throes of death. It was an odd distinction, that maybe he didn't mind the way she pitied him so much, but he supposed it had been the same with Yoshizawa.]

[He glances over at her, dully making the connection about the same time Amber correlates him to Collei, that she really is quite a bit like Sumire. He certainly hopes without the traumatic loss of a twin bit. His mouth closes when she giggles from where his lips had parted curiously, and he purses his lips a moment later, looking away with a small chuckle of his own.] I can't cook, either, if it's any consolation. It's something I ought to seek to change, but I once set a biscuit on fire in the microwave, so I may very well be beyond help. [Akechi she has no idea what a microwave is.]

[He purses his lips again, folding even smaller into himself.] That's a very kind gesture for you to suggest. [Which in turn suggests he has no intention of taking her up on it, even as sincere as she seems.]

( when he offers her some eye contact, she grins and looks visibly impressed that he can't cook either. yay! bonding! except ... )

A micro-what?

( she pauses, and then bursts out laughing again. )

Ehehee!

See! I told you! There are so many things I don't know! ( excuse her as she grabs her sides and has a little bit of a gigglefit. it's just funny to her!! )

Like-- okay. So there's this word on my bingo card and I have no idea what it means! What the heck is a 'French'?! I've never heard of one!

[A brief look of long-suffering crosses his face.] It's a convenience device where I'm from that allows you to quickly reheat leftover food. [He thinks he feels immensely sorry for these people from Teyvat.]

[A frown, and he mulls over her confusion with the word.] French designates something of French origin-- that is, something from the country of France, in most cases. There are a good number of things with the term applied that are not actually French, though I couldn't begin to tell you why, in many cases. [He doesn't know why french fries are french fries. Or why it's called french kissing, except that the French are a notoriously "romantic" ethnicity.]

You really are so smart! ( sparkle sparkle! )

There's certainly no country of France where I'm from. That's really cool! The square in question is 'French kissing' ... wow, I'm so curious to know what that's like! The fact that people in the country of France kiss in such a unique way that it has its own term is super cool to me!

( SHE IS GENUINELY SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS.... )

[He pulls such a face. Like, really he should have known it would be something stupid and nonsensical. What else would it be? If not French Kissing, Make French Fries With Your Neighbor. Blisteringly moronic. He closes his eyes at the sheer delight to her about something so stupid, inhaling slowly and counting backward from ten as he exhales.]

That's one of the times the "French" part makes no sense, there's no technical explanation for it. It isn't anything different, the term was simply coined by Americans, likely due to French women being more bold in their public displays of affection. It merely refers to kissing with tongue. [He hates that he has this knowledge, but-- such is the life of a chronic Redditor. He has to try really hard to not sound annoyed relaying this information-- it's not Amber's fault she doesn't understand and it's a stupid thing to get childishly excited over.]

Ohhhh ...

( she blushes. )

Wow. That's ... pretty intense! Jeez louise. I would've had no idea what I was getting in for by the name alone ... ( it's kind of cute the way that she gets all flustered over the smallest things. she's charming and naïve (for now), while she has had some experiences in life, facing them head on is very interesting.

especially when it's a very cute boy sharing all of this information with her. )

It isn't, really. Is that not common practice where you're from?

[He quirks an eyebrow. Just because Americans added "French" as a moniker to certain inexplicable things like kissing with tongue and sodium-saturated fried potato strings doesn't make them anything special. At least not to him, and he does realize he's an outlier.]

I-I mean, uh ... I guess? We just call it "making out" ... I've done it before, once or twice maybe? Um, but, it's been a long time. ( she scratches the back of her neck again. ) Haven't had the best time dating. I'd like to get good at it, though.

( "it sounds really romantic!" she thinks, but doesn't say. )

[He's still curled over his knees, giving her a somewhat bland expression.]

I have to hazard that you're undermining yourself, Amber.

Undermining? ( she tilts her head. ) How so?

You realize that being "good" at something like dating or kissing is purely subjective, yes? It's one of those "all in the eye of the beholder" scenarios. Being "good" at something that only involves you and the other entity you are engaged with is more a matter of confidence than actual practice.

[He's trying to tell her she's probably fine without calling her attractive again when they're literally sitting on his bed and he's having a minor heterosexual crisis.]

( Akechi probably doesn't realise it, but his explanations like this are dropping more and more "attractive" points in his pond. unlike him, Amber is a very action-oriented person - she functions by physically taking control in any area she strives to improve on. whether it be errands, archery or duties within the knights of favonius - she jumps straight into action in order to better herself. she doesn't take the time to sit around and think about it ... and as she is becoming more and more exposed to the way he thinks, she likes it.

a lot. )

That does make sense. ( she smiles at him. ) Y'know, I really love hearing you explain things to me. I kinda realise I'm a very action oriented person. If I want to get good at something, my first thought is, "I must practise straight away!" but ...

Well, I think my past has a lot to do with that. I became orphaned, my Grandfather vanished, and ... well, it was all up to me to keep his platoon in the Knights of Favonius alive. It fell apart after he disappeared. If I didn't jump into action as I did back then, the Outriders would've disbanded, along with my Grandfather's last living legacy. ( look at her! using her brain! she's trying. ) There's a lot more to it than that, but, to cut a very long story short, I had to push myself extremely hard to get where I am today. Without even realising it, I think this has been mixing in with how I view romantic tasks ... like kissing, for example. All the weight of responsibility was on my shoulders when I was left all alone. I thought, "if I don't do this, then it's all over for good."

Maybe I just need to relax. But it's harder than I thought.

[His whole body goes cold at the words "I became orphaned", and stays that way. He feels sick, suddenly. Swallowing, careful to make the gesture look natural and not like the desperate attempt of a man drowning to keep air in his lungs, he curls his knees closer to himself, letting them knock into his collar bones and curling further around them. His expression is equal parts severe and miles away as he digests her story, and he closes his eyes as he takes hold of his own elbows, his eyebrows creasing together as he grips them.]

[He takes measured breaths.]

["It was all up to me to keep his platoon in the Knights of Favonius alive." He draws in a breath slowly, eyes still closed, holds it. Counts backwards. Ten.]

["If I didn't jump into action as I did back then, the Outriders would've disbanded, along with my Grandfather's last living legacy." Seven. Six. He exhales, his lungs burning, and she circles back to how hard she had to push herself, and that it's why she takes things like kissing so seriously she could die from it. Air leaves his lungs in a rush and he laughs, an ugly sound that crackles its way up his spine and sounds dry, like more of a cough by the time it's in the air between them.]

[He sits back, the low collar on his pajama top displaying how prominent his collar bones are. He's skinny, he's too skinny, and it adds to the way he looks like a fucking scarecrow as he leans his shoulder blades into the headboard behind him and turns to look at her sidelong. He looks sickly, suddenly, ugly in an existential sort of exhaustion he'd somehow withheld inside himself until his ugly, wretched little laugh shattered the pretty veneer he was wearing to look human.]

Children who are forced to look after themselves at a young age tend to grow up with outlandish views, with oversimplifications. With a desperate need to do things properly, or to know everything they possibly can about stupid things like French Kissing and the origin of why it's called that in the first place. [It's admitting he's like her, without admitting it outright, because he can't do anything in a straightforward way, he's too afraid.]

( oh ... his reaction. it surprises her a little the way he sinks in like that. he is rather scrawny - but it is by no means unattractive to her. all that Amber can wager from such an event is that he may know how she feels. she sits up, visually interested through her body language in paying attention to him. )

Children like ... ( she pauses, and considers her next words carefully. but ultimately, she delivers it simply: )

You and me?

[He makes a wordless sound, nodding before closing his eyes again and sitting still outside of breathing. It's shallow, like he's afraid if he breathes too deeply something will catch, but really he's just afraid of creating anymore sound, right then. Everything is so silent it's deafening, there's a clock somewhere on the wall on the lower level that he thinks he can hear ticking.]

[He'd like, he thinks, to throw himself out the window about four paces to his right, for entertaining his next course of action. Instead, he moves his head from the wall, stretches his legs out, watches the way his skin moves over his knobby knees.]

My mother killed herself when I was eight. [He raises his left arm, trailing the fingers of his right in a slow track along the inside of his left wrist. He doesn't explain further-- Amber will either understand, or she won't, and he thinks it kinder if he doesn't explain in case she doesn't.] I was in foster care until fourteen, biding my time for emancipation. I became my own guardian, and have been ever since. No one to answer to, no one to answer for.

( Amber blinks once or twice as she digests what she has been told - and her expression falls into one of compassion while she listens. their experiences do not align entirely, but he likely knows the feeling of loneliness that comes coupled with family loss. this may only scratch the surface, as far as she is concerned, because she had no idea about Akechi's mother's background or what she was like.

respectfully, she won't press him on the matter, but she will try and offer a gentle form of compassion. one that does not pry or patronise. )

... I'm so sorry. I have no idea how you must feel, having gone through that ...

( but, as far as the isolation goes, she can relate. )

I hear you. I don't know what you went through, but I know a thing or two about being lonely as well without any family around. ( ... )

... Do you want to come sit with me? ( she just has this urge to be physically closer to him. )

[He laughs again at her question, drawing his fingers up the inside of his wrist again, pressing his nail into the skin to leave a red line that fades quickly. He does it again, then a third time, tracing the same line.]

She killed herself because of me, Amber. I'm not a good choice for sitting companions.

( while she could've anticipated any response from him, this isn't what she was expecting to hear. Amber watches as he picks at his skin, noticing a habit belonging to a frustrated and hurt child. or in his case at present - a hurting adult.

for a moment, she contemplates on what to say next. insisting that he is fine as he is that would invalidate his trauma concerning the matter. better yet, he may not want to explain things further. although she feels inconsiderate, she desires to know more about him, even his past - no matter how unsavoury it might be.

after all, Collei killed several people. Amber has seen this kind of pain before, even if it looks different. just as Collei's killings had a story, his likely does too. listening may be her biggest form of compassion to him at this moment, so she decides to offer that. )

You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. But, please know this, Akechi. I will listen to anything you have to say. Even if you don't think you're worthy of sitting next to me ... you're worth having your voice heard.

Edited 2023-01-19 04:21 (UTC)

[He drones a monotonous sound, a hum to acknowledge he heard her, his face starkly blank. He isn't looking at anything, more of looking through the foot of the bed, the way where he sat at the corner has wrinkled the blanket. He processes her words one at a time, sentence for sentence, slowly like he's suddenly lost the ability to understand the language she speaks.]

["You're worth having your voice heard."]

[He laughs, suddenly, a bark of explosive sound, and curls his knees back toward himself, huddling around them. His voice is pitched higher, bordering on hysteria, stretched thin like a balloon he keeps forcing air into.] That's funny. You're funny, Amber, you really ought to think a little harder before you make judgments like that. [It's rude on purpose. Nothing good ever stays, because he destroys it, so it's better to do so quickly so he has less of a chance to miss it when it's gone.] You have no idea who I am, what I've done. No one here does. I literally just told you my mother killed herself because of me. When I was eight. I'm nineteen now, likely, that's eleven more years of unwanted life because I'm too goddamn vicious to give up and die.

[He's tapping his fingertips together rhythmically, thumb to his index finger, to his middle, ring finger, pinky. Back to the ring finger, middle, index. Back. Forth. His expression his twisted and pained, like his stomach hurts, but he sneers at her anyway, dropping his tone to a condescending murmur.] And you're soft enough to say I'm worth having my voice heard.

( of course, she should have expected some pushback to her support. god knows how long it took before Collei accepted any help at all when she was dealing with the effects of her fatui experimentation.

but she doesn't balk. not by his sharp words that come wielded from a lifetime of hurt, or the way that he viscously rejects her compassion. these behaviours don't come from a place of hatred - she can warrant that much, even without amazing analytical powers like his own. Amber can detect familiarity, a pattern, in how he speaks and acts.

there is nothing she can do except for offer him patience. sticking to her guns, she repeats her initial statement. )

You're right. I don't have any idea who you are, or what you've done. But I won't go back on my words.

You have a story. One you don't have to tell me - not today, not ever. When I was alone and suffering, all I wanted was one person to listen to me so that I could stop blaming myself for the circumstances I landed in.

I will be someone you can confide in, if you want. But it doesn't have to be now. Just know that there is someone who will hear you.

[He expected... Maybe even hoped that she would be upset. They'd filled the square, they'd shared a bed. Their mutual benefit made, it was fine if she left. It was better if she left, certainly for her.]

[So when she squares her shoulders and persists, his eyebrows crease together and he scowls, looking away from her and shaking his head.] You're a fool, then. [Only two people before Amber have really tried, and he's given them the same lip. The same insistence he isn't worth it, that they're stupid for trying. He'll take it to his grave, no matter how much he craves for their feeble pleasantries to be true.]

[He folds tighter around his knees.] Unlike you, I've no one to blame for my circumstances but myself, and I prefer it that way anyhow. No one to answer to, no one to answer for. I make my own choices, and most of them have been as wretched as the rest of me. You'd do well to choose those you aim to hear more wisely.

outrider amber!

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